


Mirrored Heartbreak

by fullfirefafar



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, also berkut and summoners friendship is v important to me, and so is alfonses denial, devils line ending song does things to me, thats mostly on summoner bt alfonse made it worse smh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullfirefafar/pseuds/fullfirefafar
Summary: She thought she could never be loved by him for she was nothing but a fool. He thought he was strong enough to protect himself from the emotions that had long betrayed him.





	Mirrored Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> i live for two things: mutual pining and denial. and berkut. make that 3 things.

  She felt stupid.  
  
  Tears were warm in her eyes, but she refused to let one trickle. Each breath she took was slow, steady, heavy even as some went through her mouth. Arms hugged tightly around her knees. Chin pressed roughly against her kneecaps.   
  
  She  _was_  stupid.  
  
  Curse her and her stupid, weak heart. She should know better. She should have learned her lesson by now.  
  
  But no. Apparently she never did learn her lesson and now she was paying the price.  
  
  How in bloody hell would it even be possible for him to like her in  _that_  way anyways? She was only human. He was a prince. She was a mere mortal who could barely hold herself against an armed villager. He was a blessed royal who had the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.  
  
  She was nothing. He was everything.  
  
  Ah, damn her and her stupid emotions—  
  
  “There you are.”  
  
   _Shit, shit, shit!_  
  
  Words deathly mute from the summoner, she turned her head to the side, poorly hiding her face from the incoming intruder.  
  
  Sadly, she should know by now that Berkut couldn’t care less about listening to her simple orders every now and then.  
  
  Unaware of the emotional turmoil that would soon burst, the Rigelian prince walked towards her. “Where the hell have you been?” Firmly but calmly he asked, voice faintly thick with subtle concern over her constant absence. As much as Berkut once declared that he didn’t need anyone by his side – other than his beloved Rinea but alas, she wasn’t present – the prince soon found out that Kiran’s presence wasn’t all…unpleasant.  
  
  She was still reckless, loud, too preppy, and too cheerful for him to handle.   
  
  But she was also the most brilliant summoner in Askr, and was undeniably reliable during the most strained times of war.  
  
  Like hell he would admit the latter, though.  
  
  “Kiran,” he sighed when an answer was never given. “I’m talking to you.” Arms crossed tightly, Berkut cast a glance to where she was gazing. Nothing interesting was particular present, and this only spurned a shimmer of annoyance in him. “Kiran.” Again he called her name, tone now slightly pitched with demand.  
  
  She still didn’t respond.  
  
  Gods, if she wasn’t his summoner right now—  
  
  A deep breath was held inside his lungs. “Kiran—”  
  
  “What.”  
  
  Annoyance melted into shock at the sudden coldness of her tone. Ever since he had found himself in Askr, Berkut had never heard nor seen the young woman act so coldly to anyone. She was sometimes sarcastic, sometimes petty. Hell, Berkut was actually proud of her when he once saw Kiran give the coldest retort to Narcian that it caused the Bernian general to stomp his feet like a pathetic, frustrated child.  
  
  But this. This was new.  
  
  And this annoyed him. “What do you mean ‘what’?” One foot slid closer. “I asked you first, and you have the  _audacity_  to snap back at me—?”  
  
  “I’m tired, Berkut.”  
  
  His arms loosened, though body stiff at the chill of her response.  
  
  This was very new. He didn’t like it.  
  
  Never the one to have his ego challenged, Berkut spat coldly. “Fine then.” Request of him training in the tower tomorrow long lost in the fury than fumed in his head, the prince spun his heel. “If you decided to act like a brat, then so be it.”  
  
  His words pierced like glass.  
  
  And honestly, as much as her tears were already thick in the corners of her eyes, his sentence was the last straw.  
  
  She took a deep breath.  
  
  A verbal response still never present from her, Berkut gritted her teeth and began to walk away.  
  
  …….  
  
  …………  
  
  …Or at least, that was the initial idea.  
  
  Gods, damn her and damn his heart for perceiving the summoner as someone…precious to him.  
  
  So he turned, brown eyes once again seeing the cold stiffness of his summoner. At this point, he knew something was up. She was never this cold, especially not to him. No matter how haughty, how prideful, how…‘much of a jackass’ – as she would declare it – he acted around her, Kiran was never rude nor indifferent towards him. She accepted his presence with an open heart. She helped him train to reach his maximum potential from the moment they met. Hell, she even helped him get through the painful truth of his bloodline with Alm as well as his and Rinea’s fates back in his world.  
  
  She was kind to a fault, and he secretly applauded her for that.  
  
  So he took a deep breath. And another. And another. “Kiran…” Voice softer than minutes ago, Berkut slowly slid his feet towards her. As expected, not a peep nor sound was given. “Kiran…” Again he called for her. Not bothering for an invitation, Berkut plopped a seat beside her.   
  
  She didn’t scoot away; that’s a relief.  
  
  “You being quiet and cold is very disturbing, you know.” Brown eyes gazed at the open meadow before them. “And annoying too.”  
  
  “Then  _leave._ ”  
  
  He could feel poison that seethed in those words.  
  
  But hey, he’d heard worse.  
  
  “Like hell.” Calmly but blatantly he responded, chin now rested in the palm of his right hand. Legs crossed comfortably, Berkut rolled his eyes to the left. “You being loud and laughing constantly is annoying, but this is far worse.” Lips pursed momentarily, he finally turned his head to her direction. “So unless I get to hear that stupid laugh of yours again, I’m not moving from my spot.”  
  
  An idea suddenly popped in his head. White teeth flashed cheekily. “Even if that Prince Alfonse drags me away from you, I’m still not moving.”  
  
   _Alfonse._  
  
  Ah, Berkut really knew how to rip her apart.  
  
  Unfortunately for her, her guard was already diminished from the moment he appeared, so Kiran couldn’t fight back the terrible flinch even if she tried. To add salt to the wound, the broken sob she vainly choked back cracked between the heaving, heavy flow of her breathing.  
  
  And upon seeing this, upon hearing this, Berkut quickly realized he had fucked up.  
  
   _Shit!_  He now knew why she was acting so cold.  _Shit, shit, shit!_  He now knew why she was in a terrible mood.  
  
  The smile long gone, white teeth now firmly nipped the insides of his lower lips; he needed to fix the mess he made  _fast._  
  
  Mouth immediately opened, though words were absent from the prince. What would he say? What would he do? In all honesty, Rinea was far, far better in the language of comfort than him. No matter how downhearted or frustrated he was, he knew his beloved fiancé would always be there to lift his spirits or beam a smile on his tired face.  
  
  Ah, he so dearly wished she was here right now.  
  
  Kiran’s body was shaking. Her voice was trembling.  
  
  She was unravelling fast.  
  
   _I hate this_ , she lamented.  _I hate this_ , she despaired. She wanted Berkut to go away. She wanted herself to go away. The longer she stayed here, the more her heart would only be pounded ruthlessly until it was left nothing but a sad, faint, pile of dust.  
  
  Tears were heavy as they trickled down her chin.   
  
  She was nothing. He was everything. She loved him with all his heart. He could never, ever,  _ever_ , see her in that light.  
  
  No one cared about her. No one loved her. She was only living in the clouds. She was only building a hopeless, useless dream that would soon crumble by the cruel fist of reality.  
  
  A hiccup broke between her pathetic sobs.  
  
  Her heart was weak. Her heart was ugly. Of course there was no way in hell anyone would ever fall in love with—  
  
  The demons inside her perished once she felt her body being pulled.  
  
  Shock enveloped her whole, though silence still gripped her tight. Deep, brown eyes blinked dumbly at nothing, Kiran then choked a breath at the feel of strong arms wrapping around her head and shoulders.  
  
  “I’m sorry.”  
  
  For a mere moment there, Kiran thought it was him.  
  
  But a sigh that followed suit threw her back to reality. She didn’t look up, but the summoner did nuzzle her face against the Rigelian prince’s chest. Shame and disgust tearing her insides bit by bit, Kiran shakily brought her hands up and cupped her quivering lips. Over and over and over again she vainly fought back her tears. Over and over and over again it failed terribly.  
  
  So she cried.  
  
  She cried and cried and cried.  
  
  Forever wallowing on the stupidity that she herself had continuously thrown herself into.  
  
  While sorrow overwhelmed the petite summoner, Berkut pushed back the anger that boiled from within. Eyes focused on the dark, thick strands of her hair, the prince dragged one hand upwards until it rested on top of her head. “I’m sorry, Kiran.” Again he apologized, palm gently patting her like a terrified kitten.  
  
  She still didn’t say a word; her cries were the only form of communication he received.  
  
  Gods, after all this, Berkut  _really_  needed to find that Askrian prince and give him a physical piece of his mind, Askrian royalty be damned.  
  
  But for now, all he could do was pat her and hug her, arms even squeezing slightly in hopes that his comfort was enough for the heartbroken summoner.  
  
\---  
  
  He felt stupid.  
  
  Tears were warm in his eyes, and he no longer gave a damn as they trickled down his cheeks. Each breath he took was uneven, fast, heavy even as some went through his gaping mouth. Fists were painfully tight by his sides. Brilliant blue eyes were miserably fixated on the pair from afar.  
  
  He  _was_  stupid.  
  
  Curse him and his stupid, weak heart. He should know better. He should have learned his lesson by now.  
  
  But no. Apparently he had twisted his lesson into something far, far worse.  
  
  In the end, his own denial had led him to the most painful, heart-breaking, unbearable downfall of his life.  
  
   _Oh Gods…_  He couldn’t bear the pain.  _Oh—oh G-Gods…_  He couldn’t bear to accept the reality his own foolishness had brought him.  
  
  Eyes blinking rapidly and head forced away from the sight, Alfonse took a deep breath – over and over and over and  _Gods_  – until he slapped one hand to his mouth.   
  
  Of course she never loved him. This is what he wanted. This is what he wished for. He was the one who formed the distance between them. He was the one who strictly made sure that the bonds they shared were merely prince and tactician. Even she seemed like she got the message. Even she seemed like she accepted their roles happily.  
  
  It’s what he wanted. It’s as it should be.  
  
  Right?  
   
   _So why…_  Gods, even though he was no longer looking, his mind was truly a cruel traitor for all he could see, all he could mourn was the sight of his— _the_  summoner being wrapped in another’s arms.  
  
  It hurt. It hurt too much.  
  
  He was nothing. She was everything.  
  
  One hand pressed against the rocky wall, he weakly turned around. Eyes now brokenly wide at nothing in particular, he forced his legs to move forward. The steps were staggered, weak, and he wanted nothing more than to run fast from this agonizing scene.  
  
  Her smile still beamed in his gaze, and Alfonse merely let his tears trail quickly for he knew – he excruciatingly knew – that smile was never meant for him in the first place.  
  
_**END**_

**Author's Note:**

> its 1 am and i gotta wake up at 5 for work YEET


End file.
